It's a Bird! It's a Plane! No - It's Nerdman?
by OhGeeFantasy
Summary: Bella's Superhero may not be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, or be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but he still manages to capture something impressive-her heart. My entry in the Meet Your Mate Contest
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **Here is my entry for the Meet the Mate Contest. I hope you enjoy.**

 **Thank you NChanted by Twilight and Midnight Cougar for your excellent pre-reading/beta'ing skills. I love working with the two of you. xoxo**

 **I'd also like to thank Lori Jeringan for giving me the idea. I laughed so hard while writing this story. Love you, Lori!**

 **It's A Bird! It's A Plane! No. It's...Nerdman?**

"Hot?"

I look over my shoulder and notice Rose crinkle up her nose as she takes in my stance. I am lost in the deepest daydream, standing here in our apartment with my arms raised above my head, hands clasped together, airing out my armpits in front of the fan propped inside the window. My long hair is already swept up and twisted into a knot on top of my head, offering a cooler alternative to my usual work style. At least my bra and undies match since I'm only donning those at the moment.

"Yep." _If you only knew._

"The air's not fixed, obviously."

"Definitely not. I'm going to sweat to death if building maintenance doesn't do something about it soon."

"Yeah, this is freaking crazy. We've only been in this condo a few months, and the A/C is on the fritz already?"

"I know. It better get fixed soon or else." I make a mean crazy face and punch the air, mimicking the sweet moves I witnessed at the bus stop today.

She huffs a laugh, knowing I couldn't kill a fly, and grabs a cold beer from the fridge. The spritz escaping Rose's bottle of beer when she pops off the lid captures my attention, and I leave my coveted place at the fan to retrieve a Bud Light for myself.

I plop my butt on one of our bar stools in front of my computer, twist the lid off the cold bottle and take a swig. "Ah." _It hits the spot._

Rose looks at my computer. "I probably don't want to know, but what are you working on?"

I've been doing side work for my uncle Royce who collects and sells antiques, uploading items to Craigslist for him. He's been known to have some pretty interesting and unique things for sale, keeping me and Rose in stitches. A few weeks ago, I put up an ad for some _Vibra-King_ products named: _Fukuoku 9000_ , _Handy Hannah_ and the _Dubl Duck Vibrating Massager_ — all were vintage vibrators that were bought instantly by The Vintage Vibrator Museum. _Who the hell knew that even existed?_

This time, though, the ad is mine, and it's beyond ridiculous.

"Not what you think. It's for me this time, not Uncle Royce."

I'm searching for my nerdy soul mate, the one I witnessed in all his glory today at the bus stop, and this is the only way I can think to go about it. I'm not at the point of desperate enough—yet—to rent a billboard, but that doesn't mean I haven't thought of that angle or haven't already checked into pricing on one of those bad boys. And let me tell you—those mother-humpers can stick it.

"You'd never believe it if I told you. I'm still kinda in shock."

"So?" She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow to prod me.

"It was epic." I close my eyes, smiling, remembering _him_ for the thousandth time.

"Let me guess. The girl with the huge purse full of candy and whatnots asked if you wanted a bite of her candy bar?"

"Shut up." I flick her arm, and she throws her head back laughing.

"Oh, I know, _you_ asked to use _her_ lip gloss this time—" Rose stops, laughing her ass off because she knows how pissed I was when I had to throw my favorite lip gloss in the trash after purse girl asked to use it.

" _No!_ Jesus, that was just … wrong, and so gross."

"Okay, I get another guess." Rose smiles, pulling out the barstool next to mine.

She must think this is a game, and it so is not.

She gulps down a mouthful of Bud as she sits down. "Ben Cheney asked you out again and you said yes?"

"Hell. No. He's a dirty douche."

"All right, spill. What happened? It must be good."

"I witnessed one of the most amazing things ever." I fan myself. This time it's not from the heat in our apartment but from the wild images replaying in my mind.

"Continue." She pulls another long swig from her beer bottle as she motions with her hand.

"I witnessed a purse snatcher and someone—my Nerdman—ran after the assailant."

Rose's eyes widen. "Seriously? And what Nerdman?"

I shrug. "Oh, he's new on my radar—as of today."

Rose smirks and nods her head. "Okay, so does it have something to do with what you're working on?" She points to the now darkened computer screen.

I nod. "So, here's the deal." I reach behind me for the messenger bag hanging on my bar stool, pulling it into my lap. "I need to return this." My eyes trace the killer design surrounding an _E_ drawn on the flap.

"What is it? I mean, duh, it's a leather bag but …"

"It's my Nerdman's." I run my finger over the computer pad, and the screen lights up. Rose leans over and squints at the words I've written.

"Which still doesn't tell me why you are placing an ad on Craigslist." She speaks slowly.

"Just listen. My ad will explain everything."

.

.

.

 _Dear Messenger Bag Hero,_

 _I've been praying to the Superhero Gods that you see this Craigslist ad. Just after I was totally convinced there were few men left in this world for me, you swoop in and_ try _to save the day._

 _And I won't lie to you, I liked it—a lot. It was incredibly hot. I may or may not have needed to go home and strip practically naked to cool down. No lie._

 _I was the girl in a corporate skirt and low V-neck, sleeveless blouse because it's been hotter than the depths of Hell outside. I had seen you earlier while I waited on the bus, walking around, and truth be told, I didn't give you much thought because I was periodically checking my phone for work. But don't read into that, please. My red storm is in town this week, and my job has been stressing me out._

 _As I waited, I saw a man run up to an elderly woman sitting nearby on a bench, do a ninja-like cartwheel and then grab her purse. She screamed, and this was when you took note. You were walking right past me at this point and threw your fancy chai tea latte at the ground before tossing me your messenger bag_ _—w_ _hich is still in my possession, by the way._

" _Not again," you said. "Not in my house!_ _N_ _o way!"_

 _Following this decree, you ran after the man and yelled, "STOP YOU SON-OF-A-BISCUIT-EATER, RIGHT NOW!"_

 _And surprisingly, he did. Although he had black pantyhose on his face, he turned around, and I could tell he stared you down. And lo and behold, he then started running toward you and yelling incoherently. You had paused at this point and remained in place. I could sense your fear, my brave Nerdman, but you held your ground, doing a few shadow kicks and punches to dissuade him as much as you could._

 _I couldn't believe the heroicness right in front of my eyes._

 _At this point, I stuffed my phone back into my purse and pulled the soft strap of your bag over my shoulder._

 _And finally, the moment I was waiting for: the conclusion. With him running toward you, I heard a slight squeal leave your throat; you maneuvered yourself to execute a roundhouse kick, which, if executed perfectly, would have kicked his head off completely. Trust me. I'm from Detroit and that's how it works._

 _As the moment of impact drew near, I hoped you would try to kick his head toward me. Then I could hold his ugly mug hostage and use it as an opener to ask for your number. So I watched with rapt attention and trust me, I didn't blink once, but I did chew on my fake nails, chipping one in the process;_ _damn Ling Ling—or Barbara as she referred to herself—for not putting that extra coat of gel on for me._

 _You then caused my mouth to water when you grabbed your impressive junk and screamed, "Suck on this, you criminal!" But, unfortunately, you miscalculated and your foot hit a parking meter, and he was able to beat the shit out of you since he had the upper hand on the first move. He literally_ _KICKED YOUR ASS_ _, took your wallet and for some reason, seemed to really enjoy removing your pants, only to run off, waving them in the air like a victory flag._

 _I wanted to move; I did, but I was embarrassed for you. I didn't want you to think I was staring at your_ _pretty pecker, in all its uncut glory, escaping the trap door of your wet tighty-whities._ _So I stood back for a few moments until you cried and then passed out from the pain. That's when I ran to you, bruised, beaten and bloody, sprawled across the pavement by the curb._

 _I was the one who called 911 as I placed a tissue over your limp, but still impressive, noodle to save your virtue from the gathering onlookers. When the police and ambulance finally arrived, they pushed me away so they could take care of you—which is the reason I'm still in possession of your leather bag._

 _But, hey, I think it's cool that you at least tried to do something to help the old woman who ended up actually being a cross-dresser in his forties. And for that, you get a date with me. My name is Bella. I have a cat, I'm allergic to pollinated fruit, and I love roller derby. Let's get some sushi and talk about art … in its rawest form._

 _I hope to hear from you soon,_

 _Bells_

 _P.S. To make sure it's you, tell me where this went down and what special marking is on your messenger bag. Be specific or it's mine._

.

.

.

"Ho. Lee. Sheet." Laughing hard, Rose grabs her crotch, trying not to pee. "No fucking way."

"He was so sexy in a nerdish kind of way, his reddish-brown hair bouncing in the wind when he took off running. It was the hottest, most incredibly brave thing I've ever seen, Rose. I half expected to see a Superman emblem on his chest as he lay with his head hanging off the curb with his pocket protector all askew."

"Sounds more like Super-Dork, if you ask me." Rose rises from her stool and opens the fridge, pulling out two more beers for us.

"Stop. It was so adorable. I put his head in my lap and ran my fingers through his hair, and for a moment, while I was frantically calling 911 with the information about the attack, I pictured us together. Like you know … together." I motion with my finger sliding in and out of my fist.

"This heat has really gotten to you, my friend."

"Seriously, I need to at least find him, give him back his bag."

"Did you look inside?"

My face feels hot; heat running through my veins, head to toe, and I nod.

"Is there a name or information inside?"

I shake my head this time and take another couple of drinks of my beer to cool off. I don't want to tell Rose what I found, which was an iPad and a sketch pad with some drawings. Um, like some really _good_ drawings. "No."

"Well, what did you find? Maybe a letterhead with his place of employment?"

"Uh-uh."

"What are you hiding, Bells? You have that guilty look on your face."

I reach inside the bag, which is still sitting in my lap, and pull out his sketch pad. _Oh, fuck it._ I open the cover for Rose to see what's inside. I've already seen every stinking hot-as-hell sketch in it, and then had to use my vibrator, Buzz, to relieve the pressure between my legs.

I watch as Rose skims through the pages with her chin dragging her chest. "I take that back. He's not a Super-Dork. He's a Super-Perv." She closes the sketch pad and shoves it back to me. "Just send the ad. You need to give this spank bank back to him."

.

.

.

Rose orders Chinese since it's too damn hot to cook. We both sit in front of the TV, sweating bullets, waiting for our Kung Pao Chicken, watching HBO. _Woo Hoo to my Friday night._ I'm only half watching the movie because I'm worried about my Nerdman.

My curiosity is killing me, so much so that I almost call all three local hospitals to see if I can get some information on him, but without my Super-Nerd's name, I figure it is fruitless. So, I keep checking my emails on my phone, hoping there is a response to the ad I placed hours ago. Much to my disappointment there's nada.

"Want another beer?" Rose asks.

"Sure."

But before she can get our Buds, there's a loud knock at our door.

"Chinese is here," she sing-songs. Shimmying her shoulders in a crazy little dance, she walks toward the door, opening it without looking through the peephole. "How much do I …"

I look up from my phone when her words stop abruptly.

"I'm here to fix you … I mean fix your air," the deep voice says from out in the hall. "I'm Emmett McCarty, building maintenance and fellow neighbor."

Rose actually stutters, which is a first. Normally she's on her game, but this dude must be smokin'. "Come…" she says, and then turns to me, hiding her face behind the door with wide eyes and a bright red face. I cover my mouth to stifle the laugh trying to make its way out.

The guy, still in the hall, clears his throat loudly. "I'd love to."

Her head whips back around to face the voice—Emmett. "I mean come in." She smiles. I know this because I can hear it in her voice, plus she's combing her fingers through her hair all seductively. _Jeeze._

I must say, the rather tall, tanned, muscled guy who steps into our apartment is easy on the eyes, and he looks kind of familiar.

"This shouldn't take long. I would have been here earlier, but my friend needed me. Long story," he explains.

"I'd love to hear that _long_ story," Rose tells him.

 _Eyeroll from the peanut gallery._

"Oh, um, he broke his foot. I had to pick him up from the hospital and take him home."

"Aw, you're such a nice guy—and hot." Rose looks mortified at her lack of verbal filter.

Emmett chuckles—it's cute, in a husky-chipmunk sort of way—and walks past Rose to our A/C unit. "I'll just be a second." His eyes fall on the messenger bag hanging on the barstool, and I watch him. His gaze lingers as if he's planning a five-finger discount on it. He's got another thing coming if he thinks he's going to snatch that bag from me. "Nice bag."

"You into purses?" I ask, squinting my eyes at him. He notices me for the first time sitting on the couch and tips his chin up in greeting.

"Just admiring the bag is all." He looks at me suspiciously, and I mirror his expression. Purse snatchers must be at an all-time high here in the city.

"One of a kind."

"I'd say so. Where'd you get it?"

"Noneya." My eyes bore into him.

One corner of his mouth lifts with what I would normally consider a cute dimple, but not now. That dimple punctuates the mischievous look he's giving me. Rose is unaware of the exchange going on between me and the repair man because she's too busy applying lipstick and fluffing her hair.

"Funny, but my friend lost his messenger bag today. One that looks very similar to that one." He points at it with a big beefy finger.

"You don't say?" My heart thumps wildly, wondering if this dude truly knows my Nerdman or if he's just yanking my chain.

"Mhmm." The toolbox he's gripping in his left hand taps at his thigh.

"What's his name?" I stand and walk very slowly toward the bag. _My bag. My Nerdman's bag._

"Edward."

"Good one, you saw the _E_ on the flap." My index finger runs along the smooth leather strap hooked on the barstool.

"I did. That's how I know it's his."

"Prove it."

"How the heck am I supposed to do that?"

"Call him," I challenge.

"He's on meds."

"Likely story." My voice is harsh, unbelieving that he knows the rightful owner of the bag.

Rose finally realizes there's a standoff in the kitchen between me—her best friend—and the guy I'm pretty sure she wants to shag. "What's going on?"

I point toward the handyman. "He _thinks_ he knows who this belongs to." My eyes widen, hoping she catches the desperation in my voice.

"I know so," Emmett states, not backing down.

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" Rose asks, looking between me, Emmett and the bag.

"It is if he's not just trying to snatch the bag for himself. He was pretty interested in it the moment he saw it hanging here." I slide the strap off the barstool and secure it over my neck and shoulder, guarding it with my life. "His name is Emmett. He might want this bag for himself. Since it's practically personalized for him already."

Emmett shakes his head at my blatant mama bear reaction.

Rose steps between me and the big guy. "I have an idea." She looks at him and then continues. "You could bring your friend to The Cup of Joe to meet Bella. Neutral territory and all." Her head then swivels in my direction. "And I could accompany you, for safety purposes of course. Ya know?" She steps back and bats her eyelashes at Emmett. "And we can all have coffee together. Bella will know immediately if your friend is her Nerdman."

Laughter erupts from deep down in Emmett's gut. "Nerdman?"

We both nod.

"He's gonna love that one." He wipes the smile from his face, shooting Rose a wink. "Deal. We'll meet Sunday at noon." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a piece of wadded up paper, then takes a pen from his shirt pocket, scribbling something. "Here's my number in case something comes up."

.

.

.

I only feel safe to replace the messenger bag on the barstool once Emmett leaves our apartment. This bag may, quite possibly, be the only link I have between me and my Nerdman. Excitement erupts in the form of squeals from my now jumping-up-and-down spastic body. I'm a total lunatic, I know, but I find it hard to care. "I might be close to meeting the man of my dreams."

Rose joins me in my jump of joy. "I _know_ I've met the man of mine."

We plan our outfits for our Sunday meet-up because what-the-fuck-else is there to do on a Friday night when you don't have dates? When we are satisfied with our choices, Rose and I call it a night. After I hear her door close across the hall, I sneak back to the messenger bag and extract the sketch book. I might not have a date, but I sure as hell can have some fun again with Buzz.

.

.

.

"Hurry, we can't be late." I'm running around looking for my other sneaker, prodding Rose to finish with her makeup already.

"One more coat of mascara and …" She looks like a fish with her mouth open in an O as the mascara brush sweeps over her lashes.

After finding and slipping on my shoe, I grab my purse and the messenger bag and peek my head into Rose's bedroom. "I'll be in the car."

The coffee shop is only ten minutes away. I'm excited to think that could mean my Nerdman lives close by since Emmett had to pick him up. We find a parking spot on the street and make our way inside, luckily finding a booth although not wiped clean yet. Rose and I sit across from one another, instead of side by side, at her suggestion. _Whatever._

Nervously, I wipe stray crumbs from the Formica into my hand and throw them on the floor under the table. "Do you think he'll remember me?"

Rose shrugs. We've been over this a million times since Friday, and she's reassured me that if it's really him, he'll be taken with me. I was his Nightingale after all.

I lean over the table, and whisper, "I hope so. I've been having explicit dreams about him."

"Don't think I don't know what you've been doing in your room, Bells. Buzz has been working overtime, huh?" She winks. "Sneaking the infamous sketch book for your viewing pleasure?"

I turn a pretty shade of tomato at her knowledge. _It's not like she never masturbates._ Rose's face lights up, and she gives a shy wave when the bell on the door to the coffee shop rings. It must be them. I squeeze my eyes shut momentarily to gain composure of my otherwise flaming body of mush.

Rose smiles and pats the seat next to her. "Hi."

"Hey, Rose, Bella," Emmett says. "This is Edward."

Slowly, my eyes open, and the most vibrant green eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses, are staring at me. I feel the heat of their trail running up and down my body. I didn't notice how pretty and intense they are, considering he was passed out after the incident. And those sexy-as-fuck glasses are new, at least I've never seen them before. Tingles travel into my hairline from my neck. "It's you." Nerves in every part of my body are like livewires—exploding firecrackers, popping, igniting my senses, catching my needy body on fire. My heart is a bass drum, thumping wildly, banging about under my ribs.

"It's me." His smile is shy. His stylish hair is half-hidden underneath the gauze bandage wrapped around his head.

"Maybe if you would have been wearing those"—I point at his sexy Clark Kent glasses—"you wouldn't have gotten the shit kicked out of you." My eyes widen when I realize I said that out loud.

He flashes another soft smile, but this time embarrassment is also evident on his face. "Gee, thanks. Glad you noticed that part where I beat up the meter instead of the bad guy."

"Technicality," I mutter under my breath. "I mean, it was hot. I promise." He's nerdier now than when I last saw him all hunched over, leaning on a pair of crutches with a few reddened pavement scrapes on his cheek. I remember seeing those and lightly touching them while his head was propped in my lap.

"Here, sit down." I scoot over, giving him enough room to maneuver his leg and lay the crutches down beside him.

"Looks like I knew the owner of the bag after all," Emmett announces from across the table.

 _Insert eye roll._

"I don't make it a habit to trust strange repairmen the moment they walk into my home."

"Strange? Me?" He rips open a packet of Sugar In The Raw and tips his head back, emptying the contents in his mouth.

I nod my head with my eyebrows raised. "Um, yeah."

Rose giggles at him, and I want to puke. Emmett would be cute if he weren't so irritating.

I turn my body toward Edward. He looks a bit uncomfortable in the booth, and I immediately want to soothe him. "Want a chai tea latte?"

"How'd you know I like those?"

Now it's my turn to be all shy and awkward. "I, um … well, you threw your drink at the ground, and it splashed up on my leg." I left out the part about me wiping my palm over the tea running down my calves and then putting my hand to my nose to smell his drink of choice. _It's not that weird, is it?_

"Okay, yeah, I could use a drink."

"Me too."

A throat clears from across the table, and I look at my friend. "Bells, we're"—she motions between her and Emmett—"gonna get out of here and go home, so Emmett can show me his new ... screwdriver."

Damn, she or he works fast, and so much for her protecting me from strangers.

"Okay." The word slowly leaves my lips. I'm comfortable knowing that Edward isn't going to kidnap me, considering his gimp leg and all, plus I can tell he's not that sort of guy.

"I'll meet you at home later?" She looks at me as she scoots out of the booth.

"Yeah, sure."

Emmett pipes up. "Give my boy a ride home?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

I watch as my best friend walks out the door with what I'm assuming is her new man.

"So, this has been fun, so far." Edward taps his finger nervously on the tabletop, and I'm glad he's feeling the same way as I am.

"I'm happy it's really you who tried to save that cross-dresser."

"Cross-dresser?"

"Oh, you didn't know?"

He shakes his head. "When I came to in the ambulance, they congratulated me on trying to save the old lady."

I scrunch my face while I deliver the news. "She was actually a he."

Edward puts his face into his hands, and I touch his arm in hopes he will look at me. "It was incredibly hot, what you did."

"Really?" He lowers his hands from his face, looking at me.

Our eyes connect. His eyes are glassy and droopy but still somehow sexy, and I can't explain what it is or if he's on some really great drugs for pain, but I want to lean over and kiss him. However, I don't do that on the first date, if you can even call this one.

I put my hand on his chest. "I, um, I have something for you."

Edward closes his eyes, puckers and leans my way.

"No, I mean—" I clear my throat. "I have your messenger bag."

"Oh, shoot, I'm … I'm sorry. I shouldn't … shouldn't have assumed you wanted a … a kiss. Crap." The scratches on his face blend into the cherry-red of his embarrassment when he stutters.

"No, no, it's fine."

I don't know what comes over me, but I'm bold; I'm a woman on a mission. I channel Rose; I'm taking things into my own hands. I slide my fingers around Edward's neck, ignoring the grimace on his face as I do so, and pull us together. My lips are hungry; I lick them to ready us for our kiss, the first kiss with my Nerdman, and then …

"Can I take your order?" the waitress asks. She's standing at our table with a huge flowery name badge attached to her ample bosom, tapping her pencil on a pad of paper. _Fuck you Alice for interrupting!_

I don't release my grip on Edward's neck. "Two large chai tea lattes to go," I answer impatiently, annoyed at the petite pink-haired girl chomping on a piece of gum.

"Be right back." She smiles and then blows a huge bubble.

"Where were we?" I say. Edward's eyes are hooded and his smile is lazy, and I still wonder if it's his pain meds or if he's actually as turned on as I am.

"We … we were … here." His voice is low and husky, sexy. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me to him. Our lips meet, and he's timid, but I'm not. I press my lips firmly to his, and his tongue tastes me as I taste him, then it's over as quickly as it started.

"That was nice."

"You're nice," he says. "Rose told Emmett you even placed a Craigslist ad to find me."

I shrug and mumble into his shirt, "Uh, yeah, I did. I knew it was a long shot, but I really wanted to find you ... Edward."

He sighs and squeezes me tight.

Alice, once again, interrupts us as she sets our drinks on the table.

Edward reaches into his wallet and pulls out a twenty with one hand while keeping the other firmly on my waist. "Keep the change." He hands me my drink. "Wanna get out of here?"

And I do. I want to get out of here and spend the rest of the day with him.

"Absolutely. Let's go." I lean in and kiss his smiling cheek.

"Bella, wait. Before we leave, can I have my messenger bag, please?"

I nod and pass it to him, only to watch him open it and bring out an iPad. I give him a questioning look as he turns it on and brings up a browser.

He then turns back to me. "I have a Craigslist ad to answer, remember?"

"Oh, yeah?

I help him find the ad and watch as his grin widens while he reads what I posted.

He turns the iPad toward me and taps the screen. "I need to answer where I was Friday around five o'clock. Or does it matter?" His fingers skim down the length of my arm and intertwine with mine.

"Not really."

He looks serious, pushing his glasses up his nose in a nerdish kind of a way. _It's damn cute._ "Well, that's good news, Bella, because just so you know, I love being your Nerdman."

"Good, then you can retire your roundhouse kicks, and be my own personal Superhero."

The End.

Nerdman's thoughts:

 _Now to pay Jasper. a.k.a. the purse snatcher. Damn, he did a good job—too good since he beat the pants off me_ _—_ _guess he took his first paid stunt job a little too seriously, maybe too many roids. But, oh well, no pain, no gain!_

 _Mission accomplished!_


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm ecstatic you all wanted more of my Nerdman.**

 **To be honest, I had to write more of this Super-Cutie.**

 **This chapter is dedicated to Lori Jernigan, one of the BESTEST friends a girl could ask for!**

 **Please enjoy!**

 **Nerdman**

 **Chapter 2**

 **EPOV**

When I spot the curves-in-all-the-right-places girl at the bus stop, standing there in all her gorgeous glory with her eyes glued to her cell phone, smiling with her Louis Vuitton purse slung over her shoulder, something inside me explodes. This isn't the first day I've noticed her either. It's been months of my dick thumping at the zipper of my tan Dockers, trying to get a better look for himself. By the looks of this girl's clothing, she is some type of professional, but I can't tell what by the sexy, yet appropriate wardrobe. That's what drew me to her in the first place was her tight blouses—that cleavage, oh my God—and equally tight skirts—some shorter than others but both professional nonetheless. Those killer high heels each day about do me in. Red, black, navy and nude, each pair a different style and height is a turn on. I have to admit I have a salacious shoe/foot fetish.

Each day when I walk from my IT job to the bus stop and notice the brown-haired girl waiting there, it's the highlight of my day. It had been two weeks in when I finally I got to see her pretty face, considering she is always mesmerized by something on her phone. So when she looked up and the sunlight caught those pretty brown eyes, making them sparkle, I knew I had to meet her. I gave her what I assumed was a nonchalant wave, in a kind of _hey, how ya doin'_ , sort of way, but she looked right through me, never noticing the fact I was practically eye-fucking her.

Maybe she did see me but is turned off by my nerdy glasses and pocket protector. Pens and pencils, office supplies in general, make me excited, but maybe that's not her thing. I probably won't ever have a chance with a girl like that anyway.

So I give up.

But today when I pass her by on the sidewalk to the bus stop, I overhear her telling someone that she's given up on men. That would explain her not paying attention to me when I greet her with a wave _and_ an eye-fuck. Which in hindsight I'm happy the latter has been ignored because I also overhear her say that it will take a Saint or a Superhero to change her mind about dating again.

A light bulb immediately flicks on in my head as the words "manwhore," "douche bag," and "fuck him" fly out of her mouth. She's a woman scorned or so the tone of her voice tells me, along with the way her brows pinch and eyes crease at the sides.

I move along, making it my goal to change her mind about men—mainly me.

And that moment is when I hatch the plan of all plans for snagging the girl.

.

.

.

When the bus pulls up at my stop and I exit, I make a quick detour before heading home.

Clearwater Liquor and Spirits is top on my list. If I can get my friends drunk then what I have in mind, to capture the heart of the beauty at the bus stop, will be in the bag. Convincing Emmett may be the hardest part, so the grocery store is next and a family size bag of Pepperoni Pizza Pockets, a tub of cookie dough and puffy Cheetos are purchased. His favorite junk food should do the trick.

I've got two of the best friends imaginable and what I plan on asking them to do for me will definitely define the _best_ in friend _,_ if they agree.

The beer is chilled and snack food prepared and waiting in my kitchen when Jasper and Emmett let themselves into my apartment.

"What's up, bro?" Emmett asks, gravitating to the pizza pockets first, tossing a few at a time into his mouth.

"Can't a guy just want to hang out with his _best_ friends?"I feign ignorance but put an emphasis on best.

Jasper opens the fridge, helping himself, and pops the top on his beer. He takes a seat on the couch nearby and kicks his feet up on my coffee table. "Yeah, but you never feed us, so what's up?"

"I do sometimes."

I watch as Emmett lines a cookie with Cheetos and places another cookie on top, making himself the weirdest sandwich I've ever seen.

"True, you feed us when you want something. Like the time you needed a partner for your company's picnic three-legged race. You were bound and determined to win the fifty dollar gift card from Office Max." Emmett sniffs a laugh, and I shrug. It's true. My love for rubber band balls and paperclips is ongoing. "Or the time when you asked us to enter the hotdog eating contest, so you would know someone and you could win a year's supply of All-Beef Hotdogs."

"I love hotdogs, assholes!" Smiling as the words leave my mouth. "Only the greatest invention in food of all time!"

"My stomach hurt for four fucking days, Cullen," Jasper adds from his kicked back position on the couch.

The Cheetos sandwich teeters between Emmett's fingers near his lips, but he doesn't take a bite. "Oh, and …" Emmett lowers the cheesy concoction, covering his mouth with his other fist. A loud guffaw leaves his throat. "The time when you needed us to lick and seal five thousand envelopes with prostate information so you could get a free prostate exam."

"Hey, my health care coverage hadn't taken effect yet and I wanted to be safe, not sorry."

"My tongue was dry and my mouth tasted like a donkey's ass for days, just so your asshole could be prodded," Jasper deadpans.

Emmett takes the bite from his cookie/cheesy sandwich.

"See? I've fed you fools at least three times." I tip my head back and guzzle an entire beer, and pray the guys agree to help me just one more time. I tap the empty can on the counter. This may not be as easy as I expected.

Jasper folds his arms behind his head. "So, tell us, whatcha trying to win this time?"

Leaning against the counter, fingering the bowl of Cheetos, I answer, "A girl."

Silence fills the room for at least a full thirty seconds, and I'm rethinking my idea.

"Um, Ed. I think in all fifty states that's considered illegal," Jasper teases, and Emmett almost chokes on a pizza pocket. I slap at Emmett's back until a projectile pizza pocket exits his mouth and he's fully breathing.

Both guys finally fill the room with laughter and obscene hip gestures.

"Shut up. I need this girl to notice me."

"Then just say hi, or what's up or something along those lines," Jasper says. He's no help.

"I can't. I want to, but I think she's been fucked over by someone because something I overheard her say on the phone."

"Wait. You've tapped her phone?" Emmett asks, giving me a look. "You're in stalker mode now, bro."

"No! Hell no." My eyes widen at the realization that my friends think I'm that much of a loser to do something shady like tap her phone. I don't even know her name. "I overheard her at the bus stop today."

Jasper makes his way back into the kitchen and grabs another beer from the fridge. "I might need a few more beezo's to agree to what you have planned."

Yes! I obviously know my friends because food and alcohol are the key to my success!

"What do we have to do to help you win the girl?" Emmett asks.

"Just hear me out, okay? It's kinda crazy but this girl needs a superhero, and I'm going to give her one."

"Holy shit, I get dibs on Batman." Emmett jumps and pumps his fist in the air.

"No, asshole. I'm the superhero, but you're a very important piece in the plan."

Jasper pulls up a seat at bar. "All right, I'm game. What're youthinkin'?"

I explain the details and after a few more beers and another batch of pizza rolls, I have my friends convinced.

Tomorrow is the big day. Do or die the curves-in-all-the-right-places girl will definitely know superheroes exist.

.

.

.

After filling my friends in on the plan of the century, we make a trip to Goodwill, so Emmett can play his part like a pro.

"Are you sure blond is my color?" Emmett asks, fiddling with the long hair wig he's placed on his head, admiring himself in the mirror.

Jasper laughs. "You're a total blond."

"Are you saying that because you think I don't have brains?" Emmett takes a defensive tone with Jasper.

"Guys, come on, no fighting." I step between the two of them so we aren't hauled out of the store by security. And by security, I mean the old lady with the smock that's probably manned the store for thirty years. Heading straight to the women's section of the store didn't earn us her trust.

"Actually, you look great, Em," I say. "Now, let's find you the perfect dress."

"Do I get to wear makeup?"

"I knew you were a little fruity," Jasper mutters and sneaks a drink of his open beer he smuggled into the store.

"At least I don't have to wear panty hose on my face."

"Is that the best comeback you've got?"

"Guys, guys, please," I beg. "We have to come together in order for this to work." I sigh, wondering if I'm making a big mistake by including them in my plan.

"Sorry, Edward."

"Yeah, sorry, man."

"It's fine. I just really want this girl to know not all men are jerks and that I think she's really pretty. I'd love it if she thought I was the kind of guy she could take a chance on, ya know?"

My friends nod, and from that point on, things fall into place.

Outfits are chosen, roles are planned out, and we go our separate ways until we meet up at the bus stop tomorrow at 4:55 p.m.

.

.

.

My stomach is in knots and has been this way since noon. I can't focus on what's going on in the office, so I clock out a little early and grab a Chai tea latte to soothe my nerves. So far, this will be the biggest, most important thing I've ever tried to achieve, and I need to be on my A-game.

Becoming a superhero is hard work. _Batman beware, Super-Cullen is the new guy in town._

Inhaling the aroma of ground coffee, I take a seat at a corner table in the coffee shop across the street from my office. My shoulders ache and my head throbs in anticipation of the performance I'll be giving in a half hour. I try a few relaxation methods, such as rolling my head around, stretching the muscles in my neck and even hum in meditation, ignoring the other patrons sitting nearby, giving me weird looks.

 _If they only knew._

"You can do this, Cullen," I mutter to myself, psyching myself up. "And then you'll have the girl." Smiling as the words leave the confines of my brain, I extract myself from the chair and head toward the bus stop.

I'm almost to the spot by the mailbox, where I'll keep watch for the girl-with-all-curves, when I notice Emmett take a seat on the bus stop bench. I must say, he looks rather convincing with the ensemble we picked out last night. From what I can tell from where I stand now, he's applied makeup and has bought a scarf to accent his dress. I chuckle to myself and wonder if he's enjoying his part a little too much.

A group of people catch my eye as they leave a nearby building, and I spot my wannabe girl amongst the crowd. Once again, she's completely preoccupied with her phone, and it makes me a bit nervous that she won't catch my super heroic efforts to capture her attention. I make a quick decision when Jasper texts me letting me know he's sixty seconds out and to be ready for him.

Emmett looks my way and gives me a quick nod, letting me know he's ready. His, or should I say her purse is sitting on her lap, handles up, just asking to be nabbed.

Pretty girl is still looking down at her damn phone, and my decision to toss her my messenger bag has to work.

Jasper is a flash of lightning when he comes from behind the row of trees by the sidewalk. I barely have time to blink when he does some sort of stunt move cartwheel and snatches Emmett's purse. This part wasn't rehearsed, and I'm totally amazed at the reaction of the crowd. I think they are a little taken aback at the gymnastic abilities of the panty-hose-faced purse-snatcher.

When the purple purse is firmly in Jasper's hand, I start running, and as I reach the girl I hopelessly want to impress, I say, "Not again. Not in my house! No way!" Then I throw my Chai tea latte at the ground and toss my messenger bag in her direction, which I'm impressed she caught without trouble. When I take off toward Jasper and yell, "STOP YOU SON-OF-A-BISCUIT-EATER, RIGHT NOW!" something happens. I'm not sure if Jasper is trying to get back at me for all the stupid things I've convinced him to do on my behalf, but he stops and turns around, ready to attack.

THIS IS NOT in the plan, and I am stunned, rooted in place, but I have to move, I have to do something.

I try a few karate kicks I've seen on TV, hoping to deter Jasper and whatever he has planned for me. He's taking this job a little too seriously, like he's at work—stunt double extraordinaire. I see his muscles flex, but his expression is unreadable through the black pantyhose pulled tightly over his face, so I prepare for the worst.

When he starts running full-bore toward me, I admit a squeal leaves my throat as I summon my best Jean Claude VanDamme, hoping for the best. I grab my junk, I'm not even sure why—maybe it might snap Jasper out of his crazed attempt to put me in my place—but the junk-grab does nothing to deter him. So I ready myself with the best roundhouse kick I've ever NOT tried before to defend myself. In the process something horrid happens, and my foot comes in contact with a parking meter. The impact drops me to the ground; sharp pain surges through my entire leg. But even my almost lifeless body doesn't stop Jasper. He keeps advancing toward me, obviously not realizing I'm hurt because he pummels me about the head and shoulder region and manages to pull my Dockers from my now limp form. As I lay in pain, my soon-to-be ex-friend waves my pants in the air like a victory flag. I think I hear him say, "I'm finally putting you in your place, Cullen." But as those words marinate in my head, the world around me goes black.

When I come to, I'm in an ambulance with paramedics congratulating me for trying to save a woman named Emma. I smile, thinking I am a hero and forgetting that Emma is actually Emmett. I'm all sorts of fucked up, swimming in and out of consciousness.

At the hospital, I'm treated for a broken foot and given crutches. Emmett is already here waiting to take me home. He's in regular clothes now, but lipstick is smeared to the left of his face, probably from wiping at it with the back of his hand.

"Dude. You got your wish!"

My head throbs with jack hammer strength, even though I was given something via IV, and my throat is scratchy for some reason. The nurse informs me it's probably from all the crying I did. Great.

 _Super-Pussy lives._

"What's that, Emma?" I still have a sense of humor.

"Funny." He punches at my shoulder and a sharp pain jolts my head.

"Argh," I howl.

"Oh, shit. Sorry."

Once the pain subsides, I ask again, "What was my wish?"

"Man, you are fucked up. You know the whole reason I dressed up as a girl and Jasper beat the shit out of you?"

"That was not in the plan," I whisper, trying to help my head in any way possible. "Where is that fucker anyway? I'm breaking up with him."

"He's back at your apartment fixing you dinner and fluffing your pillow."

"He better be doing a lot more than that. He was a crazed lunatic!" I grab my head. "Ouch."

"You might rethink your hostile attitude, dude. You got your wish in spades."

"What are you talking about?"

"That girl, the girl we did this for, you know that girl?"

"Yes, Em. Yes, yes, yes. What about her?"

"She held your head in her lap and covered your naked dick with a tissue she dug from her purse."

"Wh … what?"

"Yeah." Emmett laughs, tears running down his face. "Your dick … your dick was hanging … hanging out your … your … your trap door, brother." The noise from our curtained off space in the ER is bombarded with nurses shushing us.

"When EMS arrived, she backed away, though. I think she still had your messenger bag on her shoulder."

"Shit. I have stuff in there I don't want her to see."

"Like?"

"I've pretty much sketched all the shoes I've seen her wear and then I have some sketches of what I think she looks like under her clothing."

Emmett's jaw drops. "Nudies?"

"Yep."

"I didn't think you had it in you to be such a perv."

"I am a guy, thank you. I'm horny about one hundred and ten percent of the day."

"Ditto," Emmett agrees.

"Did you ask her name?"

"Naw, bro. She was too busy straightening my wig, and I forgot to ask her. She did say I looked hella-fabulous, though."

"Ugh, she noticed the cross-dresser while I'm being carted away to the hospital." I shake my head, which sends another wave of pain through my temples.

"Look at it this way, at least she witnessed your super powers."

"What's that, Em? Super-Failure?"

A voice sounds from outside the curtain. "Is this the one who tried to save the day?"

"Yes, doctor."

"I think he's good to go now."

"Yes, sir. I'll have him sign the discharge papers." They muffle their laughs, but I hear them anyway.

I look at Emmett and raise my arms with palms up. "See? Super-loser."

Emmett shakes his head no. "Once I drop you off at home, I have an AC unit to fix. I'll come back over, and we can eat Jasper's cooking and make him wait on us hand and foot."

"Why would he wait on you?"

"I told him I have your back, and I was sure you'd tell me to beat his ass for making this plan go sour."

"You're the best, Em."

The nurse tells me signs I should watch for and reminds me to take the next few days off work as she hands me a pair of scrub pants, leaving me to get dressed and seated in a wheelchair.

"Hey, do you think the bus-stop-beauty will remember me on Monday?"

Emmett tips the wheelchair back and pops a wheelie. "How could she forget?"

And we zoom out of the ER to heal my wounds and unruffle my crushed image.

 **A/N:**

 **I love Tracy more than an E-initialed messenger bag and Midnight Cougar more than Chai Tea Latte. You girls keep me in check. I know it's hard (did I say hard? Lol) and I love you for sticking with me. xo**

 **I keep thinking I'm finished with this story but Cougar keeps giving me ideas that she'd like to see written. Sigh…**

 **I guess I'll write a few more chapters when I have the time. :)**

 **Thank you to my lovely readers for following, favoriting, and reviewing. You are the reason I keep doing what I am doing. MUAH!**


End file.
